Fading Into Black
by coloronthewalls
Summary: The true story behind R.A.B. How he went in too deep and tried to come back out. Did Sirius really know his brother and what he did, or did he only know what Regulus wanted him to? Read/Review, and see for yourself.
1. March 15th, 1978

March 15th, 1978

The only thing heard in the boy's bathroom on the 2nd floor at that time was his sobs. After all, it hurt. He hadn't _known_ that though. If he had known how much it hurt, he would have never done it. There was no time for regretting, because there was no getting out of it now. Although the young Black was the only person in the bathroom, he had made sure of that before he started bawling, he hardly felt alone. He even hid his tears, or at least tried to. Ever since _it_ happened, he had never felt quite alone. It was always there and always would be, forever haunting and taunting. It was like someone was watching and guiding him, and occasionally prodding him in a certain direction. Of course that was understatement, but Regulus didn't know any other way to describe it.

One of the worst parts was that he himself had asked for it. He, with his bony fingers dabbing at his puffy pink eyes, had forced himself into it without really knowing of the repercussions. As he sat huddled in the corner, his handsome black hair matted with sweat and tears, the only thing on his mind was regret and pain. Regret for going to far into his little plan. Regret for having his brother hate him. Then there was the awful pain that would come and go. He heard the others in his common room talking about it. Occasionally, Regulus was sucked into these conversations. But possibly, the pain was worse because Regulus was trying to fight it. He didn't want it anymore. He wanted to go back in time so badly, a month, only, that he'd do anything. Regulus just wanted it all to stop.

It would never stop though, certainly not now, and Regulus knew it. There was no more hiding from it; no more pretending it wasn't there. It couldn't just be an act anymore, like he had planned. He had to actually _live_ that life now, and that possibly hurt more than the physical pain. Sirius hated him. He had heard, and Regulus remembered what his older brother had called him. The name burned fresh in his memories, and the way Sirius snarled it would never leave his head. _Death Eater. _That's what Sirius had called him. Sirius, the older brother Regulus loved so dearly before Hogwarts. The one who had been so nice to him, who had played with him, who had helped him survive his parents and cousins, all before Hogwarts. Those were the key words, really. _Before Hogwarts_. Because before Hogwarts meant before James Potter. It also meant before the plan. It meant before Sirius had been disowned at age 16 and the plan had to go even further, to an extent that Regulus cried every night because of the damn plan.

Regulus liked to blame James Potter for the creation of the plan. If James Potter had never existed, Sirius might not have gotten into Gryffindor. He wouldn't have been so mean to Regulus when he came home that first summer, and he most certainly wouldn't have gotten disowned. Yes, Regulus decided, it all started with James Potter and that first summer after Hogwarts. Sirius had come home, and Regulus was thrilled. But Sirius wasn't. He shut himself in his room, ignoring his younger brother. All Sirius did was send letters to the most _beloved_ James. Of course, Sirius mentioned his other friends often enough, but none as much as James.

The Potters were blood-traitors, of course. Sirius couldn't have befriended a pure-blood. He couldn't have thought for one moment what might tarnish the Black family name. After all, Sirius was the oldest Black son, wasn't he? The heir to the fortune. Well, he _was_, before his was disowned. Now all the responsibility of keeping the Black family name respected fell to Regulus. Sirius became a blood-traitor himself when he ran away to live with his beloved James. Regulus really tried to be a good son for his parents, but he would never be Sirius.

Sirius was always the favorite. There were obvious reasons for this. Every family wants their firstborn to be handsome, smart, and lively. Sirius was all of those things. That wasn't to say that the Blacks were an unattractive family. Regulus also had the wavy black hair that so many girls fawned over, and the sharp features and mysterious eyes the Blacks were so well known for. But it all looked so much better and Sirius, as if it was magnified. Regulus was also bright. He did well in every class, but not without effort. Sirius Black put next to no effort in anything he did, and yet he was still excellent. Regulus practiced for so long to be seeker on the Quidditch team. Sirius, on a whim, and gone to tryouts with James one day and made the team. Liveliness, being social, was never Regulus' strength.

Regulus, as hard as he tried, was not Sirius. His parents always pretended around other pure-blood families and family members that they were so proud of Regulus. Honestly, they hadn't been truly proud of their second son until they learned he had the dark mark. At home, when Regulus was all alone with his parents, they never treated him like they had treated Sirius. Regulus just didn't have as much potential as his older brother, and his parents only saw that. They didn't see how hard Regulus tried to impress them, and they didn't know how good a son Regulus really was. No one truly did, actually. No one really knew how much devotion Regulus put into being the best Black son he could be. Even at school, Regulus was overshadowed by his older brother. All professors compared them. Even the Slytherins talked about Sirius more than Regulus.

If anyone actually knew what Regulus was doing, they wouldn't think so little of him, for Regulus had taken up a very noble task indeed. For the first year Sirius was away, Regulus just acted like he normally did. But after having Sirius home for the summer and seeing his parents distraught over his actions, Regulus began to form an idea. He wanted to make his parents happy, of course, but after Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, Regulus knew that his family's name was slowly being more tarnished with everything Sirius did. Regulus took up the job of being the perfect Black.

By the time Sirius came home from school the second time, and Regulus was ready to go to Hogwarts, he had entirely changed. That's when Sirius began to hate him. Regulus wanted to follow in Sirius' footsteps, though. He had always admired his brother, and looked up to him. But Regulus kept his plan alive by telling himself that it was for his family name. For his parents. The parents who never would truly love him. Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, of course. The sorting hat had actually been pondering where to put Regulus, but he had stubbornly asked to be put in Slytherin. It was all essential to the plan. He had to stay the perfect son. It was necessary. It became even more so when later in the year, his cousin Andromeda was disowned for marrying the mud-blood Tonks. Regulus begun to hang out with the other Slytherin pure-bloods whom he thought idiotic and blood-obsessed. He sneered at every mention of Sirius, although he still loved his brother. When Regulus began to hear Sirius complaining of him to his friends, he knew the plan was in motion.

During Regulus' first summer home from Hogwarts, he made it his duty to annoy his brother even more. He actually enjoyed having his parents dote on him all the time to make Sirius angry. Only Regulus hadn't seen that his parents' love for him had been fake, and they just wanted Sirius back. Regulus had been too obsessed in the plan to see what was really going on. Sirius began to truly hate Regulus, thought his younger brother never stopped loving him. Although, Regulus had actually become to be annoyed at Sirius. No longer could he find comfort in his older brother. He had to work everything out on his own, and it was all because Sirius had been too pigheaded to see what was best for the family. He just had to put his own concerns above his family's. It didn't matter if the Black name was tarnished, as log as Sirius got his way, Regulus told himself with a hint of scorn dripping from his words.

It was during his fourth year that Regulus had to take the plan up a notch. Sirius was becoming completely lost. Regulus was getting completely lost himself. Lost in the plan, Regulus was unable to see what was truly happening to him. He was slowly becoming more immersed with the children of dark wizards. He tried to ignore the signs that something was wrong. He just had to carry out existence through the plan. The more he snapped at Sirius, or pleased his parents, or the more dark curses he learnt, the better. After the school year ended, Sirius ran away. The family disowned him. Regulus was blindsided. He hadn't seen this coming.

First it had been Andromeda, who now had a half-blood daughter, so Regulus was told. That had been more expected; Regulus had seen it coming. Sirius leaving was like loosing the family gold, and now Orion and Walburga Black were stuck with the silver. Regulus was silver. Sirius was the tarnished gold. That's when Regulus started to pretend to wallow in awe at every mention of the Dark Lord. Honestly, Regulus did believe pure-blood held supremacy, but that was what Slytherin was for. Half-bloods and mud-bloods could go in any other house and live whatever life they wanted, Regulus really couldn't care too much. But to the rest of the Black family, it was more than just supremacy. They wanted annihilation. Although Walburga and Orion were not death eaters, it was obvious that they had those views. By Febuary of 1978, Regulus had no choice. He had been pretending he wanted to follow in the Dark Lord's footsteps for years. He finally had to take action.

_Death Eater_. Regulus winced, sobbed, and pulled up his sleeves to look at it again. He had to make sure it was real, and that it hadn't all been some awful nightmare. But it was right there as it had been the night before, staring up at Regulus. Maybe it was just in his head, but Regulus was sure that it was darker. Getting the dark mark was the most selfless part of the plan. He had finally won over his parents fully. In fact, he remembered them beaming as they told the rest of the Black family that Regulus had finally done it. He remembered the smile on his strange cousin Bellatrix's face when she had heard over the holidays that he was thinking of becoming a Death Eater.

Regulus was still choking with sobs. His body was wracked with emotion of fear of what was to come. He had heard it from Mulciber—There was no turning back. Regulus already felt like he had gone in too far, and that's when a strange feeling flooded over him. For the first time since he received the mark, Regulus felt alone. No one was really on his side. No one, not even Kreacher, the lowly house elf who understood Regulus more than anyone, knew what he was going through. His brother hated him. His parents always wanted Sirius, not him. His friends weren't loyal like Sirius'. They'd leave if Regulus did anything against their beliefs.

The last of the tears subsided, and Regulus sighed as he turned on the faucet and bent his head into the freezing cold water. Most likely, this was going to be his last year at Hogwarts. All of his "friends" were going to leave to join in the death eater raids, and Regulus was expected by everyone to follow blindly. Some days, Regulus wanted to throw in the towel. He had enough. Rising from the sink, he spat on the bathroom floor and reached for a rock in his pocket. He felt its smooth, cold edges as he wrapped his fingers across the small grey stone. Cold non-living. That's how Regulus felt. With a loud, angry yell, he threw it across the room, shattering a bathroom mirror. Regulus panted heavily, and walked against a wall on the far left side of the bathroom. He felt the arm with the dark mark pulsing, and he slid his back down the wall so he was once again sitting on the floor. He then curled up into a ball, stretching his lanky arms over his legs and hurrying his face into his knees as he wept. It was just another day.

**Author's Note:**

** This is a new story I have been thinking of for awhile now. So far, all I have is the prologue, which is what is currently posted.** I am **going to wait to see what kind of interest there is in this story. I will continue to work on my other story with the marauders reading the third book, this will simply be a side story for the time being. If you wish to see more of this story, please review. Thanks, I do hope to work on this though.**

**Unti then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


	2. August 19th, 1978

August 19th, 1778

He knocked on the door four times. One, he decided, for Sirius. That's the first thing he wanted back. Two was for a bare arm. He decided that was almost as important. The third knock was a wish for a time turner, so he could go back and correct his mistakes. The fourth knock was for what he regretted. That meant almost everything. Regulus heard a familiar voice, one he had not expected to hear that day.

"Name?" Asked the young, masculine voice.

"Regulus, you don't need my last name," Regulus replied smoothly. The voice asked again.

"What were the first words you ever said to me?"

"Out of my way you toe rag. Now let me in Barty," Regulus sneered, rolling his eyes. There had to be a better way to do this. Barty Crouch Jr. opened the door. He was a young man, not quite out of Hogwarts yet, and had received the Dark Mark. However, everyone knew that his father was an important ministry official, and if Barty Sr. knew his son was here, there would be trouble. His hair was short, evenly chopped, and straw blonde. His eyes were a milky brown. Innocent, compared to the eyes of many here.

"How did you get away from the family, Bart?" Regulus asked. Barty was one of the only people Regulus actually carried out normal conversations with. Barty smiled, and flashed his tongue out of the side of his mouth like he always did.

"Said I was spending sometime with friends. My father and mother were _easily fooled_. As soon as I get out of Hogwarts, I tell you, I'll be doing great things to make up for this," The young Death Eater said. Regulus did not doubt this one bit. Barty had almost as much passion as Bellatrix, and that was saying something.

Bellatrix Lestrange was Regulus' oldest cousin. She was crazed by pure-blood supremacy and married Rudolphus, who Regulus didn't trust one bit. She had poofy, wiry black hair and black eyes which were glazed with the look of someone who had gone mad. Her skin was cold and white as snow, and Regulus tried to keep from shivering when she touched the back of his neck, her lips pressed close to his ear.

Ah, Regulus...I was wondering when you'd be coming," She said in her luring voice. . "You're late," She spat, whispering. Regulus turned to her.

"Ah, Bella," He started, his voice calm. Very few people could talk in such a way to Bellatrix. "For that, I send my apologies. Now unless there is anything else you have to say to me, I bid you farewell for the moment." Regulus finished speaking and waved, a big smugly, at Bellatrix. Her eyes flamed and she stormed away. As Regulus had learnt, the easiest way to get rid of a Black is to undermine their pride. Still standing next to Barty in silence, Regulus was now able to look around the room to see who was there besides himself, Barty, and Bella.

First he spotted Yaxley. His blonde hair had a few flecks of grey scattered along the hair above his ears, but his piercing blue eyes shown as intently as Regulus had always seen them. No one really knew how old Yaxley was, and they would probably never find out. He had a large nose and always seemed to be frowning in displeasure or contempt. Yaxley thought very highly of himself, Regulus had noted. That might be important later.

Then there were a set of very faithful death eaters who didn't seem to have a bad mark on them, as far as how they preformed. There was Antonin Dolohov. He had the scruffy beginnings of a dark brown beard with contrasted greatly alongside his pale face. His grey eyes darted across the room as he ran a few fingers through his oily, curly hair. Dolohov did not say much, but he was a man of brutal action. The next of these was Nott. Regulus didn't see too much to be special about him. He was slightly older, with black hair and green, calculating eyes. Unlike Dolohov, who made it known that he was a loyal follower through his actions, Nott professed it through words, and annoyed Regulus each time he opened his mouth.

Regulus also saw Mulciber, who winked his dark eyes as they met Regulus'. Mulciber was a year older than him, but Regulus knew him quite well. They had been good companions at Hogwarts, and it was Mulciber who took responsibility of finally giving Regulus the mark. He had shoulder-length, light brown hair, and the permanent look of a grin on his face. If you looked at Mulciber, you would begin to feel very nervous, because he had the same look of a grin when he was in school and playing pranks with his friend Avery. He had a very cold-blooded, dry kind of humor.

Regulus' moment of silence was broken when Yaxley cleared his throat and stepped into the middle of the room. He did not smile, and instead looked at everyone. Regulus met Barty's eyes, which were gleaming fervently, before staring at Yaxley.

"Greetings," He said in his usual dark voice. "We all know the Dark Lord's wishes of us tonight," He paused, waiting for everyone to nod. Regulus did so. "Good. Then I won't have to repeat myself. We will be going to Diagon Alley. Do whatever necessary to make our mark clear. We might have a few others meeting us from Knockturn Alley." Yaxley finished, and looked at everyone. We had all heard the official order before, we didn't need to hear it again. Within a few seconds, Yaxley was gone. Next was Bellatrix. Mulciber and Barty seemed to leave at the same time. Then there was Nott, and finally Dolohov, until Regulus was the last one in the meeting place. He looked around, and sighed, still reluctant although many months had passed and there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe he'd decide to hide one day. He'd think about that. But for the moment, Regulus had to get going. The room was now empty.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Regulus looked at the scene of destruction. Shop windows were shattered, and bits of glass were scattered all along the cobblestone road. Regulus walked down the street to see for himself everything caused that night. People had run screaming from the Leaky Cauldron, only to be stunned, or worse, judging by the limp body over Mulciber's back, by the Death Eaters. Regulus gazed upon Ollivanders, which was relatively unharmed save for a few cracks in the glass. For a quick moment, Regulus thought that possibly everyone felt a surge of respect towards the store. After all, everyone had gotten his or her wands there. But Regulus thought to soon, because a red light was emitted from Yaxley's wand and the entire window on the storefront was shattered. Regulus wondered if Ollivander knew that Yaxley would one day destroy the front of his shop with his wand. Maybe he did, thought Regulus, for the old man had always seemed to know more than he let on.

More wizards were staring to come into to streets though, in feeble attempts to stop the Death Eaters. Regulus raised his own wand and struck down a man who looked familiar. Everything felt like it was going in slow motion. He saw Death Eaters vanish with dead bodies, soon to be proclaimed missing, by the _Prophet_. He saw other Death Eaters vanish into the dark alleyway that few good wizards ever tread down. Knockturn. Regulus thought about maybe going down there. He would, he decided. But before he did that, he felt a hand on his shoulder and shivered for the second time that night.

"Do it, Reggie," Hissed Bellatrix Lestrange. "Show to the Dark Lord that you are faithful," She whispered, her coarse hair prickling Regulus' neck. With great reluctance, Regulus pulled back his sleeve. He hated doing it. He hated seeing the foul abomination that took up his left arm. He pressed his want to the mark and his arm stung for a moment with a shot of pain. Then Regulus muttered the words he never wanted to hear himself say.

"Mosmorde," He snarled, and felt more pain flow through his arm. The mark had never been so dark. It hurt, almost like the night when he got the mark. Suddenly, a flood of memories washed through his mind. Regulus remembered the looks on everyone's faces when he received the mark. He remembered how proud everyone had been. It so happened that the most vivid memory of him first receiving the mark was of Sirius' reaction.

_Febuary 11__th__, 1978. A Hogsmede weekend. Regulus, Mulciber, and Avery had been walking the streets, laughing about one of Avery and Mulciber's pranks. Actually, Regulus hadn't laughed. He was still in shock from what he had received that past Tuesday. Avery then cast a glance at Regulus. _

_ "Mulciber here told me you got it," He said in his high, annoying voice. Regulus stopped walking, and for one of the first times in his life, was at a loss for words._

_ "I, uh..." Regulus began, looking a bit nervous. Mulciber patted him on the back. _

_ "Sorry Reggie, meant to get your permission first, but I was just too excited for you." That's when a glimpse of recognition passed through Mulciber's eyes. Regulus knew that look too well. It meant that the vicious boy had an idea, and Regulus wasn't too sure he wanted to be a part of it. Avery also caught on to the idea._

_ "Reggie—" Mulciber started._

_ "Don't call me that," Regulus spat, which earned a laugh from Avery. Mulciber rolled his eyes._

_ "Regulus, then. It ain't easy. We know. Avery and I... We'll show you ours if you show us yours. Just to prove it and all," He said, and Regulus' eyes widened._

_ "_Here_?" The young Black hissed. "In the middle of Hogsmede?" He questioned and Avery laughed again._

_ "How thick do you think we are? No, we'll go somewhere. Else," He stated. Mulciber snapped his fingers._

_ "I know just the place." He said. With that, the Slytherins went off to a corner behind one of the pubs. No one ever went there, no one would ever see. Mulciber looked at Regulus, and lightly punched him n the ribs._

_ "Well?" He goaded, "Go on then." Regulus looked at Avery and Mulciber, who both smiled anxiously. With a sigh, Regulus pulled up his sleeve. And he wished he hadn't. For at that exact moment, Sirius Black and James had suddenly become visible, for through use of James' cloak, they had been invisible before. Sirius thought it would be funny to follow his brother through Hogsmede. It was just about as funny as murder. Sirius stared at Regulus, who quickly pulled down his sleeve. It was almost like old times. Times like when Sirius was seven and Regulus five and the latter had just been caught with the former's chocolate frog. _

_ "James, Mulciber, Avery," Started Sirius, who's eyes were flaming. "Out. Now," He growled, and grabbed his younger brother by the shoulder._

_ "Sirius I—" Regulus tried to speak as the three other young men scampered off._

_ "No," Snarled Sirius. "I've heard—and _seen—_Enough." Sirius' eyes were hard and angry. "How could you? I knew it was bad, Reg, but I didn't think that's you'd get their mark. How could you? I don't even know what to say to you, anymore. You're one of them." Sirius' glare, for e moment, looked soft. Like Sirius could cry. "My own brother, a Death Eater."_

_ "Sirius, I can explain!" Regulus cried out, but it was too late. Sirius gave one nasty look of disgust and pity, and vanished, off to find James. Regulus didn't know what to do._

But it was August, now. Regulus shook himself away from the past. When he looked up at the sky, and back at the wizard in front of him, he felt like Sirius must've felt in that memory. He wanted to talk to Bellatrix about it, just to see what she said, but she was gone. Regulus poofed away as well, and found himself facing a brick wall that had not been red for years. Knockturn Alley. There was Borgin and Burke's, not too far away. Regulus could see the sign. That meant he was close to the one spot where he felt comfort nowadays, besides locked in his own bedroom.

He ran past the stores, past dark wizards and witches with pointed yellow teeth, and mangled hair, and croaks and grunts for voices. Regulus ran to a corner, where there was a black ladder that rose to a rooftop. He climbed the ladder, just as he did when he was younger and playing hide and seek with Sirius whenever they accompanied their father shopping. From the secret alcove in the rooftop, Sirius never did find him. Regulus always associated the alcove with safety. So, when he felt the most insecure, Regulus went up to the alcove. The night was brisk and Black, and Regulus knew that there were worse things to be afraid of than his father's anger that Sirius and he had run away to play games. There were no games anymore.

**Author's Note:**

**I have decided to continue this story. Thank you for the reviews that helped to make my decision final this morning. Thank you for reading, I hope to have a lot of fun writing this story. I hope to post the next chapter soon.**

**Until then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


	3. November 11th, 1978

November 11th, 1978

Regulus stared at the family crest above his bed. _Tojours Pur_. Always pure. It meant to always be pure of blood, no doubt. That was the obsession of the Black family, it seemed. But, not wanting to go downstairs, Regulus decided to see if there could be anything else that the motto stood for. Something good and redeemable, perhaps, Regulus thought would be nice. He supposed it could mean pure of intention. After all, remaining steadfast and firm in your beliefs was always important.

Regulus was not feeling very committed to his beliefs at the moment. He knew there was a meting that day, but he didn't feel like going at all. He still felt remorse for what had happened so early in the year. The qualms had been steadily rising, and Regulus felt as if he was living a hollow life. It almost _wa_s that way. Regulus rarely smiled and truly meant it. The emotions he knew he was feeling were hardly human, he felt that much. There wasn't any more compassion, for how could Regulus pity anyone? He was loosing everything he had once held so dear.

Regulus sat up on his bed and looked at the various newspaper clippings. They were all about Death Eaters and their master. A few headlines stood out at him.

_**Diagon Alley Massacre: 5 Missing**_

He had been there that day. Regulus distinctly remembered the August night. The five were still missing, and Regulus knew they would never be found. All were dead, and yet their family still hoped for their return to them. The only way they could be reunited was through death, which was becoming more and more abundant, Regulus thought bitterly.

_**Bones Family: In Remembrance**_

Regulus frowned slightly. He had not known them so well, but only remembered that the Bones' were a prominent wizarding family. Their entire family was practically obliterated.

_**7 Muggle-Born's Murdered in London**_

Mulciber. Regulus remembered Mulciber taking part in the atrocity. Regulus had been somewhere else at the time, and could only imagine what would happen if he was forced to kill someone, possibly someone he recognized from school.

_**More Missing: What Does it Mean?**_

This was an early article. Regulus' first. But now that the war was continuing, it had more meaning. Regulus could list all that he had heard were gone. He could remember Benjy Fenwick's face before he was mutilated by several Death Eaters that Regulus knew and associated with. He could remember seeing Dorcas Meadowes fighting alongside his brother, and then a week later, she was gone too. He could remember Antonin's pride in saying that he and four others had murdered the Prewett twins. Regulus could remember their smiling faces in school, and t pained him to think that he had become part of the cause that was ripping these families away.

Regulus rose from his bed and looked in the mirror, smoothing out nasty knots that he didn't bother to get rid of. His eyes were cold and tired, and his face seemed to sag. He tried to form a smile on his face, but it ended up looking more like a grimace. He stared at his reflection for a few moments longer.

"Good morning," He whispered, as he left the green and silver room. Regulus walked out into the hallway where he saw Kreacher, dusting a bookcase.

"Good morning Master Regulus," Kreacher croaked. "Can Kreacher get his master anything?" Regulus looked down at the house elf, who was possibly his favorite living thing in the house.

"Thank you, Kreacher, but I am alright for now," Regulus replied, sounding a bit gloomy. He walked down the staircase and found no one in the kitchen, although there was a smell of food that still lingered. Regulus had no idea where he parents could be. Whether they were out of the house, or simply in another room, he didn't know. They didn't ever bother to tell him.

Even though there were three people in the house, they almost never saw each other. Hardly a single spoken word was uttered in the House of Black. Regulus had counted the days, and it had been a week since he had told his father anything but 'Hello.' He didn't mind much, though. His parents hardly had anything decent to say. As he wandered around the kitchen, Regulus found some leftover food from breakfast. It seemed that his parents knew he was still staying in the house, for they left him a little plate. Regulus sat down at a chair and glanced at the _Prophet_.

_**Ten More Missing: Who Will Be—**_

Regulus threw the paper onto the ground in a sudden fit of anger. It washed away as he took a bite of food, but Regulus was bloody sick and tired of the headlines. Maybe if he could see a glimpse of hope, he'd feel better. The reason he was tired was because he never got any sleep. Regulus always wondered if the information he had given to fellow Death Eaters, or to the Dark Lord himself, had caused the murders of any one of these people. The answer was most likely yes. Regulus suddenly didn't feel all that hungry. He left his plate on the kitchen table, and grabbed his coat. He sighed, and stared at his house before there was a large crack. Regulus was gone.

He had arrived in Knockturn Alley. This is where he was supposed to go, he was pretty sure. Regulus walked down the alleyway, pushing through dirty beggars on the ground, thankful for a single sickle. He simply pulled his cloak over him and descended down the slope to Borgin and Burke's, where he was to meet Lucius and a new Death Eater who he did not know the name of yet. He opened the door and curtly nodded to the man behind the counter. He proceeded deeper into the store, where he could hear the drone of Malfoy's calculating and condescending voice.

"Be quiet," Regulus heard Malfoy hiss, "You have done nothing but babble since I had to find you, worthless rat."

"I'm sorry, sir," Regulus heard the feeble, familiar voice of someone he knew he had heard quite often, but he couldn't place where. That's when Regulus emerged from where he had been overhearing from the bookshelf, and his eyes widened ever so slightly when he saw who the person who Lucius was talking to was.

The man, if he could be called such a thing, he was so infirm looking and twitchy, was short and quite heavyset. He possessed large buckteeth and his head was covered in mousy-brown hair, which seemed to resemble fur. His face was contorted, and he had two large, unattractive moles on his right cheek. He had pale, sickly looking skin, and light blue eyes that were darting around the room.

"Wormtail," Regulus said, watching both eyes turn to him as he walked down to greet the two. "It's been awhile since we last saw each other." Regulus was stunned to see his brother's friend a Death Eater. Lucius cleared his throat.

"Yes, Regulus, I thought you'd remember him. Hung around your brother, Sirius," Regulus flinched at the name, "A lot, isn't that so?" Lucius finished, stepping on Peter's foot. He nodded fervently.

"Yes...Good friends...I remember you," He stuttered. Regulus looked disgusted. They obviously were not good friends anymore. Lucius saw Regulus' distaste, and continued on.

"He's a double agent, Regulus. Part of the Order. He will leak us information," Lucius explained, sounding as if there was nothing more Pettigrew could do.

"I see..." Regulus mumbled. "Welcome, then." Wormtail eagerly nodded, and Regulus couldn't help but wonder ever saw in the man. Cowardice was never something Sirius stood for, and this man named Peter seemed to be full of it. Regulus wondered how he even got into Gryffindor. It was in looking at Peter that Regulus also wondered what Sirius would think if he knew his friend was a traitor. No doubt that if Regulus told Sirius, he wouldn't believe him. Sirius never talked to Regulus, and probably didn't see Peter fit to be a Death Eater anyway. Honestly, neither did Regulus or Lucius, but double agents were always handy.

"In fact, Regulus," Said Lucius, breaking the silence, "We were going out for a drink. I was given the task of informing Pettigrew of the next raid." Regulus couldn't help but smile at the aversion towards the twitchy new Death Eater.

"I will come along, then," Replied Regulus. Before the three were out of Borgin and Burke's, however, Lucius stopped and Regulus turned around.

"Oh, and Regulus," Lucius said, grinning malevolently. Regulus turned around.

"Yes?" He asked.

"This is strictly classified, and I wouldn't tell you unless we were friends," Lucius' upper lip twitched, "But the Dark Lord will be requesting your service soon. _Personally_," He sneered, and Regulus heart began to beat very loudly, and very quickly.

"Personally?" Echoed Regulus, trying to get the message to sink in.

"Oh yes," Responded Lucius jubilantly. "But I have no idea what about. Just be expecting it, you know." With that, Malfoy brushed past Regulus, who was standing still outside Borgin and Burke's. Pettigrew followed closely behind like a lost puppy, just as Regulus had remembered his brother's friend had done back at school. Regulus followed the two, with a sudden feeling of fear. He wasn't sure what to think about the Dark Lord wanting him _personally_.

**Author's Note:**

**Yes, a short chapter, but I also wanted to get something in today for this story involving Christmas, so expect a second chapter here today to make up for this. Besides, I can only stand Peter for so long... I also hope to get in a chapter of my other story as well. As always, I do not own Harry Potter, and please do not forget to keep reading/reviewing!**

**Until then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


	4. December 25th, 1978

December 25th, 1978

Many years ago, on a morning such as this, there would have been the laughter of two very excited boys who would come charging down the stairs, hardly able to keep their small hands from tearing open the wrapping on the gifts. The older boy would be grinning, pushing and shoving the younger out of his way. The younger would have smiled and pushed back, running down to see the presents by the fireplace.

Only one of the boys remained, and it had been a great many years since he had felt his older brother's elbow jabbing into his ribcage. Regulus walked slowly down the stairs. It was hardly different than any other morning, he knew. His parents wouldn't give a single smile like they used to. There would be no presents by the fireplace, and no cousins. There wasn't going to be a Christmas breakfast either. Regulus would come down the old staircase as he did every morning, and find some leftover food from earlier that morning. He'd wish Kreacher a good morning, and Apparate somewhere—anywhere—Just to keep his mind off of things. That, or Regulus would lock the door and stay in his room.

However, Regulus stopped halfway down the staircase, because as much as he kept telling himself that there would be nothing by the fireplace, there hadn't been in years, he looked anyway. And to his great surprise, Regulus actually saw something. There was a parcel, sitting by the fireplace, wrapped just as it would've been a decade ago. Regulus blinked, to make sure it was real, before continuing down the stairs, possibly a little faster than the rate he had previously been going.

Regulus got to the bottom of the stairs, and looked around. Sensing no one there, he turned to the fireplace. Sure enough, the little parcel was still there, wrapped just as it had been on the staircase. Regulus couldn't help himself. He walked over and knelt down, brushing some of the dust off of the parcel. Dust. What would dust have been doing on it?

"Open it," Said a deep, cold, voice. Regulus held the parcel closer, and stood up to see that his father, the whole time, had been watching from across the room. Regulus was somewhat shocked. His father hadn't engaged him in conversation for a long while. Regulus did as he was told his father, carefully sliding his fingers between the folds of the wrapping. He peeled away some of the dusty old paper to see a set of quills and some parchment, along with other things used to write and send letters. Regulus was about to speak, but Orion Black beat his son to it.

"I was cleaning the other day when I found that parcel in my study, buried between two rather old books. I was quite confused, as I remembered wrapping it for you the first Christmas after...He left to go to Hogwarts." Mr. Black faltered when he was about to say Sirius' name. No one ever said his name in the house anymore. Regulus looked down at his long-awaited present, then back at his father.

"Do you have any idea how it got there?" Regulus asked. Orion nodded.

"I have firm suspicions that a certain disowned member of this family must've hid it. My intentions for this gift were that you could write to that certain person while he was away." Regulus and Orion locked eyes. Sometimes, more could be said through implications than through actual words. "Happy Christmas, Regulus," Orion Black finally said. Regulus nodded.

"Thank you Father. Happy Christmas to you, as well," Regulus replied. Conversations between father and son were always like this. Always, it was more like Regulus was talking to a well respected stranger than to his own father. Then, something rare and unusual happened. Orion, looking right at his son, who resembled him so much. They had the same dark eyes, the same wavy black hair. And now, they had the same look on their face. One of long-concealed regret and sadness, and fear and worry.

"Regulus," Spoke Orion, in a very slow voice, "Difficult and interesting times are coming. I want you to stay safe and make wise choices. But, I also want you to make the right choices," Orion said, and Regulus furrowed his brows. His father continued. "I want you to do what is _right_ over what may be considered wise to some other people. No matter what I have told you in the past, my son, heed these words now: Make your choice." With that, Orion stepped away, and Regulus did the same. He was stunned.

Orion Black had never spoken in such a way to either of his sons before, not even when they went to Hogwarts. Regulus was beyond stunned, really. He was beginning to think it was all some odd, contorted dream. After all, his life had been very dreary recently for a 17-year-old. Maybe he was dead, or worse. But he felt, that for the first time in his life, his father was trying to tell him something important. Something that was beyond being a pure-blood or a Black. Regulus' feelings were confirmed when Orion turned around and spoke once more.

"Oh, and Regulus?" Orion added, almost out of the room.

"Yes, Father?" Regulus answered, wondering what else his father could possibly want to say to him.

"Sometimes the original intention for a gift is the best intention there could ever be." Orion turned his back and headed to another corner of the house. Regulus stood still. Had his father actually hinted that he should make contact with Sirius? No doubt the older brother would simply throw the letter away. Still, Regulus felt a nagging sensation in the back of his mind, and impulse, that he should follow his father's instruction. It could work out. But first, he needed a place to sit and think ling and hard about what to write.

Regulus walked over to a closet and grabbed a coat. He put it on and buttoned it up completely, stashing his present in one of the large pockets. He placed his feet in a pair of old boots and walked outside to feel a cold, watery snowflake on his nose. A white Christmas would've made Regulus' holiday a little over a decade ago, he remembered. Possibly, Regulus still liked the white power coating everything in sight.

He walked past muggles throwing snow at one another, and dragging along brightly colored objects with ropes. _Sleds_, Regulus thought to himself. Across the street from his home happened to be a muggle park. The small pond in the center was frozen over, and icicles dripped from the statues. The two cement statues were of two swans, pleasantly sitting next to each other. One was slightly larger than the other, and had its wing outstretched, as if protecting the smaller swan from something. Cold, Regulus though to himself, as he sat down on a cold park bench under a leafless tree that he remembered trying to climb while Sirius was able to reach the very top.

Regulus had never been able to reach the top of the tree like his brother. Perhaps that was early foreshadowing of what was to come later in life for Regulus. Either way, he chuckled slightly at the though of trying to climb the tree that day. He imagined one of the frail and icy branches would fall off if he put too much weight on it. Regulus actually spent the rest of his Christmas at the park. He walked on the stone sidewalk that he had tripped on and gotten a bloody knee and a large bruise when he was eight years old. He remembered the statue of an old mayor who Sirius had nicknamed "Old Snotty," because his left nostril was slightly chipped in such a way that it looked like the old mayor needed to blow his nose.

Regulus walked through the garden of the park that he had pretended to dislike because Sirius did. Actually, Regulus quite liked it when the plants weren't all dead and covered in snow. Tulips grew in the patch he was standing by, and he knelt down to look at the sign that labeled the empty patch. It named the plants' scientific name, and carved in with an old pocketknife were two sets of initials.

_**SBRB**_

It had been a birthday present to Sirius long ago, Regulus had remembered, and the carving was written in a 6-year-old's scrawl. He had wanted something to honor his brother and him, even after they left. At the time, Sirius told Regulus is was a silly little gift. But the day before Sirius left, Regulus had seen Sirius crouching by the Tulips, and he had wondered whether Sirius had really meant that he had said eight years prior. It was then that the sky began to grow dark, and Regulus retreated back into his home to spend the remainder of his Christmas.

Later that night, Regulus took the present upstairs and laid everything out on a writing desk in his bedroom. There were two quills, a whole stack of parchment, three bottles of ink, and a stamp. It would've been very much wanted by a young Regulus who wanted nothing more than to communicate with his brother. Regulus carefully held one piece of old parchment, and placed it on the flat surface of the desk. There was an old chair, and Regulus sat in it, as he had not done in some time. He opened one of the bottles of ink and carefully dipped his quill into the black ink, and began to write on the paper.

_The original intention is usually the best, in the end. I can only hope I'm right in this ..._

**Author's Note:**

**I hope you liked my little Christmas chapter, please keep reading and don't forget to review! I always wondered what Grimmauld Place Christmases were like...I'll write some more after the holidays, and start getting more into the story.**

**Until then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


	5. January 17th, 1979

January 17th, 1979

Regulus paced in his bedroom; looking at an old silver clock that ticked with every step he took. It was like the hands were pushing him forward, slowly, waiting for him to be pushed over the edge. Edge of insanity? Edge of comfort? Or edge of _both_? Regulus sighed. He took a step left.

_Tick._ He was waiting for some kind of sign. He took another step to the left.

_Tock. _Regulus had no idea what sort of sign this was supposed to be. He took yet another step to the left.

_Tick._ He assumed it would be a letter, delivered by owl. But he had been wrong many times before. Regulus took a step to the right.

_Tock._ How long had he been doing this? Regulus knew that he should do something useful to pass the time, not squander it by worrying. He stepped right again.

_Tick._ What if the letter didn't come? What did that mean? Regulus asked himself these questions many times that night, and had so far been unsuccessful in finding and answer that gave him hope.

_Tock_. Regulus heard the front door open, and he stopped pacing, holding his breath for a moment. It creaked open ever so slowly, and Regulus gripped his wand in his hand as it trembled. He felt a shiver run down his back, and he started to breath again, but shallow enough so that he could still hear what was going on.

There was a definite stomp. Regulus could no longer hide in his bedroom. Stepping out from the safety of his room, Regulus slowly began to open the door, closing his eyes as he did so. He took two steps—One with his right foot, then again with his left, and sighed as he opened his eyes.

That's when he saw a fluttering black cloud, and the feeling of someone pouring ice down his shirt as bony and uncaring fingers that dug into his flesh gripped his shoulder. He could see the crooked nails burrowing into his robes and into his skin, drawing blood. It took Regulus every bit of strength not to wince and the nails turned, as if trying to be screwed into his bone. Regulus looked at his shoulder, and saw that the nails truly resembles bones more than a human man. Finally, the fingers released, and Regulus was able to breath and turn around. But not before he heard a cold, shallow voice that was a hoarse whisper.

"Regulus Black," The voice hissed. "I was slightly dismayed that you did not wait at the front door." The cold voice sunk into the depths of Regulus' heart, making him feel icy in the inside. "No matter," Said the man, if he could be called such a thing. "You have learnt your lesson now," He finished, patting Regulus' bleeding shoulder.

"Yes my Lord, I am sorry," Regulus managed to speak calmly, although he was frightened to death and the pain gnawed at his shoulder.

"I assume you know why I am here? Somebody has told you, perhaps?" The man asked, yet it wasn't a question. Regulus nodded, and turned around. The man hardly looked human. Wisps of hair were slowly depleting. The skin was pale as snow, nearly, and the fingers were elongated and spindly. The Lord was quite tall and strong, and had a distinct jaw line and face, although his nose was beginning to almost cave in. Regulus thought he looked slightly like a snake, with narrow eyes, a darting quick-tongue, and the sunken-in nose.

"Yes, my Lord. I have kindly been told," Regulus replied evenly, trying not to look into the eyes that so often turned a bright shade of red. Of course it had been Lucius. After the blonde Death Eater had told Regulus months ago that the Dark Lord would require his services, he had confirmed a time with Regulus.

"I had indeed been hoping so, Regulus," Voldemort said darkly, with a fain trace of a chuckle that Regulus picked up on. "I have a job for you. I might have more for you to do, later, but for now..." Voldemort's eyes flashed to red, and Regulus tried so hard not to look away. The Dark Lord seemed to take pleasure in the fear he was instilling into the young boy.

Voldemort reached deep into his billowing robes as his voice trailed off. Regulus watched the hand slowly come up, and with it, a locket of some sort. Voldemort pulled up the locket, and Regulus watched it glisten as the dim lighting of 12 Grimmauld Place seemed to light it up. The locket was gold, and well polished. At the bottom of the long brown circle inside the gold mass, and Regulus tried his best to figure out what it was. Something green...It looked almost like an S.

Before Regulus could get a closer look, Voldemort snatched the locket back up, right into his hard grasp. He chuckled slowly and deeply, and Regulus could feel a rumbling within his chest. The locket was luring Regulus, and it was a very odd feeling.

"This is obviously a locket," Vodemort told Regulus. "I have recently attained it, or should I say, it has been returned to me." Regulus wondered what Voldemort had meant by that. Who had taken something from the Dark Lord, and a locket? Voldemort continued on.

"Salazar Slytherin, Regulus. What you was indeed an S. The founder of our house. Now, I presume you wonder why I'm showing you this." Voldemort concluded, looking right into Regulus, who nodded.

"My Lord, I wonder not, for you must have your reasons—"

"Spoken like a true gentleman," Voldemort purred, "But do not try to deceive me. Even I admit, I would be wondering why my master could be showing me an ancient locket. Don't deny curiosity, Black, for a healthy dose, as I say...Leads to great things.

"I am presenting you with a very important task, Regulus. If you are to fail at keeping this locket safe, you will die, I promise you. I may divulge the true importance of this locket in due time, I may not. If I come to this house, I shall not be turned away. If I ask for the locket back, you will give it to me. If anyone, _anyone,_ asks to see it, you shall not let him or her, no matter the price you must pay.

"The rewards for keeping this locket safe will be great, if you succeed. In fact, if you do well, I will ask you to be of even greater assistance to me. This is an honor. I am giving you," Voldemort pointed a dirty finger into Regulus' chest, "An opportunity for greatness. Unlike so many, I do not underestimate the young. Use this chance for your advantage, Regulus."

Voldemort released his hand, and the locket was once again suspended in air, so close to falling from one of his single bony fingers. Then, the locket dropped, and Regulus was quick to move his hand to grab it. The locket made a faint ticking noise, and Regulus stared at it with intensity. It must have been in his head. In his hand was just a locket. An artifact, yes, but still just a locket.

Regulus held the locket firmly in his hand, and looked up to his Master with the famous Black eyes. He was young, but of age. He'd be turning 18 in April. Whether Regulus liked it or not, he was a man, and this was just the beginning of the responsibilities he was to be given.

"Take care of it, Regulus. I'll know."

Regulus looked to see Voldemort leave with a swish of his shadowy garb. After he was sure the Dark Lord had left, Regulus released his breath, relieved. He wasn't going to have to risk his life for this locket. All he had to do was keep it safe. It seemed so trivial to Regulus, but Lord Voldemort always had his reasons, and Regulus suspected he always would.

Lord Voldemort's reason for trusting Regulus? To see if he could rely on the young Black, who hadn't shown as much enthusiasm as other young Death Eaters, such as Barty Crouch. Regulus knew that this had been a weak spot in his plan, but he knew there was also no lying to the Dark Lord. Besides, Regulus thought as he rubbed his fingers over the locket, keeping a locket safe wasn't the worst way to prove his trust.

Regulus had stayed loyal, in the months of his being a Death Eater. Voldemort knew this as well. He didn't need to show the obsessive lust of his cousin Bellatrix, nor the crazed ardor of friend Crouch Jr. There were plenty of followers that didn't worship every step Voldemort took. Regulus knew that if he just did as he was told, Voldemort would need to reason to harm him.

This gave Regulus some comfort as he retreated back into his bedroom, shutting the door and holding the locket close. As the door clicked to a close, Regulus sat on his bedside, dangling the locket. He was mesmerized by the beautiful gold, and sat for a good long while, just watching it. That's when he heard the faint ticking, like a mini heartbeat, and Regulus was snapped out of his daze, and as it happened, he dropped the locket.

Regulus felt drop of sweat creeping down his cheek. What had happened? Surely, as it had happened twice now, Regulus was not simply imagining things. There had to be some sort of cause, an explanation of some sort. Regulus reached down to pick the locket, and he looked at it with growing interest.

There had to be some sort of spell on the locket, Regulus told himself, nodding vacantly. He then wrapped the locket around his finger, and stood up from the bed. He walked over to his desk, and placed the locket in one of the drawers. It would be safe in there. Neither of the Black Parents ventured into their sons' rooms, and certainly not into their things. With that taken care of, Regulus opened another drawer, and took out a piece of parchment.

Ever since that past Christmas morning, Regulus had taken to writing as important things passed. He wrote letters addressed to Sirius, but none of them had been sent. There were two, and both were locate din a woolen sock in the bottom of his dresser. Regulus looked up at a shelf on his desk and took off it a single bottle of ink. A quill was already lying on the desk, and he took it in his right hand.

The quill brushed its grey feathery top across Regulus' cheek as he thought of what to say. He should tell Sirius about the meeting with Voldemort, definitely, but he needed to find just the right words to describe it. Otherwise, he'd be giving the Dark Lord no credit for his frightening demeanor. The quill feather stopped moving, and Regulus froze. Within seconds, words were being written on parchment.

_Today I met someone who said he would not underestimate my strengths, just because I'm young. Do you remember when mother would constantly tell us we weren't ready because we were too young? I wish I had taken her advice sometimes..._

**Author's Note:**

**I added a bit of irony in there, see if you spotted it. I feel a little bad, because it me smile a little as I wrote it. Please continue reading, and don't forget to review so I can know how I'm doing with this! Also check up on my other writing. I really hope to get another chapter up soon. **

**Until then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


	6. February 14th, 1979

February 14th

It was Valentine's Day. Not that it mattered to Regulus, of course. He wasn't in love, and he could only remember being so twice in his life. Once it was unreturned, but for a brief stretch in his 5th year at Hogwarts, Regulus remembered a very pretty Eleanor Fedele. To this day, Regulus wondered what Eleanor saw in him.

She had been so very pretty and kind, with her golden locks and bright green eyes. It hadn't been a long relationship, because Regulus was worried about his parents finding out. After he broke it off, Eleanor never spoke to him again. Regulus was sure that she was finishing her last year at Hogwarts. She would take her NEWTS, and go on to a real profession.

Eleanor had been a half-blood. She was exceptionally bright, and sorted into Ravenclaw. Regulus and Eleanor had met while studying in the library. Even after the short relationship had ended, Regulus still loved her. No doubt that Eleanor had forgotten about him, though. Regulus didn't make himself very memorable. She was probably receiving flowers from a charming boyfriend who wouldn't break off a perfect relationship because of his parents.

Regulus wasn't going to spend Valentine's reminiscing. There were things that needed to get done, and they weren't going to happen if he spent all his time moping about, thinking about past love. There was nothing he could do about it now, so there was no point thinking about it. Regulus was leafing through a book as he sat in the Leaky Cauldron, hand in his hair, and head bent down to that an the off-chance there was anyone who knew him in the tavern, he would not be recognized.

The book was called The Tales of Beedle the Bard. It had been given as a gift to Regulus when he was five or six, maybe even younger. Most people would've expected him to have gotten rid of it by then, or at least not to be reading the children's book in public. After all, he was nearly 18. Honestly, Regulus found a few of the stories in the light blue hardback to be slightly interesting. Maybe Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump was a little childish, but Regulus had to admit that it was god when he was much younger.

The story that intrigued him most was that of the three brothers, although The Warlock's Hairy Heart was a close second. Regulus knew the story by heart, memorizing actual passages from the book. Two of the brothers were obsessed by the idea of immortality. They thought of it as something they had to accomplish with something showy, while in all honesty, the third brother was able to avoid death by a simple cloak.

The Elder wand, if it did exist, Regulus thought of as an icon. An unbeatable wand was a sign of power. Because the item was so well-known and treasured, however, it became the brother's downfall. If he had been more discreet about the wand, he would've done better. In a way, immortality had befallen the brother, though. Regulus knew that there were people who still talked of the wand, as if it was real.

The Resurrection Stone Regulus supposed was a bit cleverer. To bring back someone you loved form death was certainly defeating it. It was more humble, as well. It seemed that the brother did not want to necessarily escape death himself, but rather fill his life again by bringing back a loved one. However, no matter how hard someone could try, the world of the living was no place for the dead. Regulus knew that to be true, even if he wasn't quite sure the story was. This had also led to the man's death. For he could not live without the one he loved.

Regulus admired the last brother. He wished for something that would supposedly conceal him of death. Although Regulus heard of invisibility cloaks and did not doubt that this Hallow could be real, he hardly suspected it truly hid one from death. Nonetheless, invisibility was enough. The third brother outsmarted death, and knew when it was his time anyway. He was the only brother who truly escaped death.

No matter what other people thought, Regulus did not wish to be immortal. He had enough strife without even living 18 years. He had no wish for an unnatural extension of this. In anything, Regulus would not mind being immortal in words, as long as it was something worthwhile. He did _not _want to be remembered eternally as an average Death Eater. He'd rather die a nobody.

Regulus knew of other ways to be immortal. There was the Sorcerer's Stone, of course, but you had to rely on something. If you ran out, you were hopeless. Although Regulus would not mind having to count on something always being there, some people found it a weakness. In his brief time as a Death Eater, Regulus could already tell that Lord Voldemort did not seem to like to rely on people for anything. Why was he trusting Regulus with the locket, then? There had to be a reason, he knew. But what?

He slid his fingers down his cloak to the locket. He had taken to wearing it around, just to keep a safer eye on the locket. Besides, Regulus felt better while wearing the locket the Dark Lord had entrusted to him. It gave him a sort of confidence he never had before, although he could not explain it. Regulus even ignored the light humming noise the locket made from time to time. It didn't bother him anymore.

With his long and graceful fingers, Regulus reached out in front of him for his Firewhiskey. He was never much of a drinker, nor did he want to be, but times were changing. Regulus knew this much. He took a sip, and spilled a little eon his book, swearing under his breath. He wasn't sure what caused it, but Regulus felt a shiver run through his body. However, he thought nothing of it, and continued drinking, trying to dab away at what had spilled on the children's book.

Regulus began to fume slightly, with an unexplainable mini-rage. He hated spilling on books. What had caused him to spill, anyway? Was it the man next to him, who had been coughing earlier? Regulus narrowed his eyes in the direction, lifting his head slightly. Yes, it had to be. Now that Regulus thought about it, in fact, the man did look a little hateful. Did he want Regulus to spill on his book? He must've, Regulus decided.

That coughing man was old, and probably with a cold heart as well. The man had a short beard and grey hair. Regulus assumed he must not have been very pleasant, for it looked like he barely fixed himself up nicely at all. Probably an old miser, whose family and friend either left him or died. Possibly both. Regulus clenched his fist, and decided to act with revenge against the old man. With a quick motion, he knocked over the old man's glass onto his newspaper.

"Hey!" Cried out the old man, but not unkindly, oddly enough. "I was reading that!" He told Regulus, who tried to keep his eyes from widening. And odd shiver passed through him for the second time that day. He hadn't wanted to knock down the man's drink. Well, he had for a second, but Regulus wasn't that kind of person. He never got angry at things like spilling his drink and if he did get mad, he never blamed it on others. Regulus always blamed himself for most accidents.

"Sorry," Regulus mumbled, keeping his head down. "I'm not sure what got into me." The man sighed, but looked content with the answer.

"Fine. Don't make it a habit," He replied shortly, and Regulus nodded, ashamed.

Regulus felt the anger leave him, and he then decided it would be better if just left the Leaky Cauldron. So, he picked up his book, finished his drink, and abruptly left, much to the relief of the old man whom he had bothered.

The street outside was buzzing with the chatter of witches and wizards, and people were flooding in and out of shops, swarming like flies, and getting all jumbled up. Regulus had to jostle his way through the crowds. He began to wonder why there were so many people, but then it became so obvious he nearly smacked himself. It was _Valentine's Day_, wasn't it?

People were either taking their loved ones somewhere, or buying last minute gifts. From what Regulus caught from conversations, one was as likely as the other.

"Milk chocolate or dark? Oh, I should've asked her sister!"

"Merlin's beard! It's beautiful, Nigel."

"Sounds great. Let's go, love."

Regulus was not involved in any conversations of the kind. Instead, his thoughts were still on the incident in the Leaky Cauldron. What had come over him? And how? That odd shiver couldn't have just been coincidence, Regulus decided. Something had definitely _happened_ to him. The real question to ask was _what_.

He had heard the expression 'bristled with rage.' However, Regulus pretty much dismissed this. He rarely had rage, and certainly not over something so petty. It was still possible that it had just been his emotions controlling him, but it seemed unlikely. Unless, of course, Regulus was mad about something else, but decided to take it out on the man. He figured that he was upset over being alone on the day of love, but he wasn't very angry. It was something he could live without.

The only other theory Regulus had thought of was that someone had hexed him. There were many people in the tavern that probably had wands on them, and there was no way Regulus could've seen them all at once. Someone could've used wordless magic, and had his or her wand hidden in their sleeve for all Regulus knew. Now that he mentioned it, he did feel almost like he was under a trance. A trance of anger, perhaps, or one of magic.

Regulus looked down at his chest, and felt with his hand to make sure that the cold bump that was the locket was still bulging from his breast. It was, and Regulus sighed a breath of relief. He didn't want to know what would happen to him if he failed Lord Voldemort. Continuing to stroll down Diagon Alley, Regulus decided to go into Gringotts. He needed to take some money out, before he couldn't.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

The bright sun had faded, and was replaced with the crescent moon. Darkness filled the sky and Regulus walked briskly to get home. The night was cold, and his teeth were chattering as he arrived at his home, quickly opening the front door and slamming it shut. Heat filled Regulus' insides even as he took his coat and scarf off.

After slipping his feet out of a pair of boots, Regulus jogged up the stairs to his bedroom. Who knew where his parents were. Making sure Kreacher wasn't somewhere in the dark bedroom, Regulus shut the door and lifted the locket off of his neck. It felt as if a huge weight was being lifted off of him, and Regulus felt much better than he had earlier that day, especially in the Leaky Cauldron.

Regulus placed the locket in a drawer of his desk, and sat down on an old chair that creaked slightly as he sat back. Like he had done more and more recently, Regulus dipped his quill in ink and took a piece of parchment. He rubbed his hands together, before placing the quill lightly on the yellow parchment.

_What is immortality, brother? Is it living forever, until you are an old and lonely hag? Or, is it forever being remembered..._

**Author's Note:**

**I think I finally understand how Remus Lupin must've felt. For the second time in the past four months, the full moon is approaching and I feel rather sick and peaky. On a more serious note, here's a question for you to ponder: Which immortality would you like better? Living forever, or being remembered forever? I hope to update this again soon. Please keep reading, and don't forget to review! I'd like to see how I'm doing. Hopefully I'll get better before the full moon...**

**Until then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


	7. March 20th, 1979

March 20th, 1979

Whether he liked it or not, and he most definitely didn't, Regulus was called for a meeting of the Death Eaters. Like most mornings, he had been awake since the early hours when it was still dark, but he simply didn't want to face the day, and so he pretended with all his might that he really was asleep.

Over the past few weeks, Regulus' sleep had been getting increasingly worse. More and more nightmares plagued him every night, all about raids and Voldemort and the locket, which Regulus was beggining to suspect was more than just jewelry.

He'd see familiar faces bloody and emotionless. He'd see limp, lifeless bodies and flashes of green. In every nightmare, Regulus would point his own wand to a very familiar face, and a burst of green would hit Sirius Black right in the chest, killing him.

Regulus had never himself killed anyone. It was that little bit of innocence he still held onto, and it kept him somewhat sane. He hadn't ended a single life. All could still be good, maybe. Regulus tried not to get his hopes up, though. Nothing would be good unless his side lost the war.

Finally deciding that it would be in his best interests to attend the meeting and /not/ be late, Regulus slowly got out of bed. He was still very tired from lack of sleep, but awake enough to move around with ease. He slipped on a plain, white muggle shirt and a pair of muggle jeans. He was going to have to walk a little in order to reach the meeting place. It was charmed so that he could not apparate inside, so he was going to have to find a farther away location to appear.

Regulus turned to the mirror and ran a few fingers through his hair, that simply fell with a casual yet graceful style. He snorted. Since when did he care about his looks? Having the Black genes was enough to make him handsome without effot, anyway. The clock on the wall ticked on, and Regulus noted that he still had half an hour until the meeting would get underway.

As he slowly opened the door tp his bedroom, Regulus saw Kreacher the house elf.

"Good morning Master Regulus. Master kindly asled Kreacher to remind him that he had a very important meeting today," Kreacher spoke softly and kindly, as he did only to Regulus and his mother. At this, the young Black had to smile a little. Kreacher would always be there for him when needed.

"Good morning Kreacher, thank you, I am aware. What is breakfast?" Regulus asked casually as he started to descend down the staircase.

"Sausages, Master Regulus. Kreacher hopes that they will suffice for his master..."

"Yes, Kreacher," Regulus kindly said, "They will definitely suffice." With that being said, Regulus made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen where there was indeed a plate of sausages. Even more surprising was a certain Walburga Black at the table. She looked up at her son, midnight eyes staring him down, and looked back at the Daily Prophet.

Regulus' mother had a loud voice, and slightly unruly black hair. Her skin was pale and her face pretty, but there was obvious disdain for those below her evident in her facial features, maiming the possibility of beauty.

"Good morning Regulus."

"Good morning mother," Regulus replied evenly, getting his sausages. Neither of his parents had ever treated him well, and Regulus expected no kindness from them now.

"We have sausages for breakfast," His mother said, straining to make some form of conversation with her son.

"Yes, mother," Regulus responded, cutting up some sausage. Walburga's nostrils flared.

"Are you mocking me?" She inquired. Regulus looked up and shook his head.

"No, mother. I am sorry. How did you find the sausages?"

Walburga reluctantly calmed down. "Well enough. They'll do," She said with contempt, believing she deserved a better breakfast than sausages. The mother and son sat in silence until Regulus rose from the table. His mother looked at him sharply.

"Where are you going?" She asked, and Regulus stared at her intently before answering.

"Out," He said shortly. His mother nodded in realization, and a small smile spread across her lips.

"I see. Well, come home later."

Regulus nodded and walked upstairs to get a coat and boots, for he had left them in his room. He smiled at Kreacher as he once again disappeared into his bedroom to buckle up his boots, and pull a coat on. He trudged down the staircase, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his chestnut colored leather coat. The locket Voldemort had given him was up in his room, in the drawer, for other Death Eaters were not to know that he had it. Besides, even if they didn't figure out Voldemort had entrusted the locket in him, something that would anger many older followers, questions would still be launched at Regulus, inquiring how he obtained the locket as so on.

The young Black opened the door, stepped through, and slammed it without another word to his mother or the house elf. He walked down the street, past the park, and over to an alleyway with a slightly faded vermilion telephone booth right in front of it. Regulus looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed, then began to walk down the alleyway until he got so far that if someone looked down the passage they'd see only dark. Regulus glanced at the trashcans to his right, pushed them over, and with a loud crack he apparated.

Regulus arrived in what seemed to be the back of some sort of shop. It didn't matter what the smallish wooden building was, however, and Regulus brushed off his coat and began to walk briskly over to his left. When he came out o behind the building, it was obvious Regulus was by the shore. Houses were wooden and whitewashed, and close together, with brightly colored doors. It seemed to be a quaint little town as far as Regulus could tell, and he was sure that it could be much more charming if the sky wasn't a dismal and somber grey. He walked across the small street, past the cars parked by the townhouses, and over to a certain street.

"737, 737..." Regulus muttered, looking at the picturesque mailboxes with the house numbers right below the box itself. Finally, Regulus stopped. He had reached the place for the meeting, Number 737 Saunter Drive. How the Death Eaters managed to find such places for meetings, Regulus didn't know. He marched up the brick stairs that led to the cherry-red door. He knocked four times, and sighed. Then, a voice began to speak.

"Name?" Asked the voice, young and that of a man. Regulus rolled his eyes.

"Regulus."

"You're a minute late, you know," The voice responded, and Regulus smirked.

"I am aware. Now what's the question?" Regulus snapped back. There was always a question.

"Right...In third year, who was the person I always had trouble remembering?"

"Honestly, I don't know how you expect someone to remember something like that."

"But—"

"You never could remember Wendelin the Weird. Now let me in Barty."

Barty Crouch Jr. opened the red door and let Regulus in, looking slightly defeated. It was spring break, and Barty seemed to have been able to get off again. Regulus always wondered how much longer until Barty would be caught by his parents, but that wasn't his worry, even if he considered Barty a friend. The eager young Death Eater was much more clever than he appeared for someone who couldn't remember that Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burnt at the stake. All the other Death Eaters eyes Regulus.

There were Bellatrix, Rabastan (Who was the spitting image of his older brother), and Rudolphus Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Peter Pettigrew, Yaxley, Nott, Dolohov, He wasn't the last one, however, for there was a knocking at the door and Regulus could make out the voice of Avery, accompanied with Mulciber. The two seemed to be together most of the time, and knowing them from school, Regulus was not at all surprised that they were late. He sat down in an available chair as the two walked in with large grins that quickly faded as Yaxley, who was the only other person standing, stared them down with his shocking blue eyes.

"We are here today," Yaxley began in a very humdrum voice, "To discuss future plans for raids," He continued, pausing every now and then instead of droning on and on. "As you know, Diagon Alley will be a spot of interest for us. We are also looking to find a way into Hogsmede. A blow to the area near the school of Hogwarts will be a string one indeed," Yaxley pointed out, and Regulus had to agree. If he was still in school, and terrorizing wizards who knew dark magic had managed to infiltrate and ravage a favorite destination point, he'd be honestly scared. "However, The war is getting to a critical point, and we need more options.

"You know that we have started to target powerful wizarding families. While this is excellent, we now have a powerful source we have gained important information from. Peter Pettigrew," All eyes turned to the quavering man, "Who is currently working as a double agent, has been able to give us the names of everyone in the Order of the Phoenix. This is information we have not had before. Due to him spying, we also know where they are, Order meeting places, and other things of interest.

"Targeting wizarding families has worked for us in the past, but we need to face the present more and more. Our real enemies do not lie within wealthy blood traitor families. They lie within those who are directly opposing us. The Order, as it is called, is our enemy. I will read off the list of our _newest_ targets."

Regulus could tell that Peter was feeling uneasy. It had to be a lot of stress. Sirius had always mentioned his friends in the highest respect, except for Peter, who he considered lower. Regulus could now easily see why. The man faltered under pressure, broke down when it came to making the right decision, and was only useful because of the information he supplied. Nothing more or less was expected of the weak excuse for a Gryffindor. Yaxley picked up a piece of paper from his pocket and began to read, coughing slightly.

"Sirius Black," Yaxley read, and Bellatrix made a hissing noise. All eyes turned to Regulus, who just stared ahead as if nothing was going on. He met Yaxley's eyes, but no further interaction was made.

"Dedalus Diggle." Regulus remembered this man as being particularly bouncy and happy. He didn't deserve to die, really. Regulus hoped he came out of this ordeal all right.

"Elphias Doge." Yaxley spoke boringly on and on, not a bit of emotion in his voice.

"Aberforth and Albus Dumbledore," He said, and everyone looked at the ground. They all had Albus Dumbledore as their headmaster, and they all knew how good a wizard he was, Regulus included shared this.

"Lily and James Potter." Sirius' best friend. Peter sunk into his seat. Regulus truly did not like James at all, but did not know much of his wife, only that she had once been a friend to Severus Snape.

"Frank and Alice Longbottom." Regulus knew them as well. They had both been a year ahead of him as well. Both Frank and Alice had been very kind, He remembered.

"Remus Lupin." Another of Sirius' friends. He was quieter, if Regulus remembered correctly, but bright.

"Alastor Moody." All knew the name, and a shiver seemed to pass through the room.

"Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Marlene McKinnon, and Dorcas Meadowes," Yaxley finished, looking around the room. "Now that I've spoken to you about the Order, we will begin the chaos."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Regulus returned home late, and without a supper to calm his nerves. Neither o fhis parents were to be found, and Regulus trudge dup the stairs and back into his bedroom where he would spend the rest of the night in reclusion. He stowed his boots under his desk, and his coat he hung on his bed. Sighing and running a hand through his hair, Regulus walked back over to the desk and sat down, looking at a piece of parchment, and grabbing a quill. He knew exactly what to say.

_When Yaxley called out Sirius Black, I couldn't help but think that if you ended up dying because of this war, it would be because of someone who you thought was your best friend..._

**Author's Note:**

**Sadly, due to some very inopportune inconveniences, this story is going to have to fade into the dark (get the pun?) temporarily due to the fact that I have recently become quite busy. I'll keep my other stories as active as possible, but this one I won't be able to update as often. Sorry. I will get back to it, definitely when I finish my current Marauders reading the third book story. **

**Until Then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


	8. June 8th, 1979

June 8th, 1979

Regulus sat at a muggle restaurant. It was a simple place, with quaint little tables and a sort of retro feel to the place, mostly because there was not enough business to renovate. It was somewhere out of the way for most muggles, and certainly a place no wizard nor witch would ever think of going. That's exactly why Regulus chose it in the first place. He didn't want to be found by anyone he knew.

Lately the young Black had been feeling worse and worse. He woke in the middle of the night from hearing curses and watching flashes of green light, followed by the crumpling bodies in his memories. Before, he hadn't been sure if he was doing the morally correct thing, but he knew what he was doing was right because it would protect his family name. Now he knew what he was doing was completely morally wrong, and he wasn't even sure if he had made the right decision. Would Regulus rather be with the Order? Maybe not. It's possible, Regulus thought, that he wouldn't have so bravely but his life on the line like that. He wasn't Sirius, he wasn't a Gryffindor. He was Slytherin, and always would be.

There was something else on Regulus' mind. That locket, the one that he kept in his drawer, was definitely something of a magic Regulus had never seen. He could tell by the way the locket seemed to be _alive_ almost. He would pick it up and hear almost a pulse. Regulus didn't want to call it a heartbeat because, well, how could a locket have a heart?

Occasionally, if Regulus was going out for days at a time, he would wear the locket, concealed under his coat so that it wouldn't get stolen. It was during these times that he felt consumed by a presence. He noticed that he acted differently, felt differently, and grew more and more suspicious by the minute. He realized how bad it was when he snapped at a young woman who was just giving him coffee, attacking her with questions, demanding to know if she poisoned his drink. Regulus had realized that it was an unfamiliar magic because it was very dark. Anything that made a person behave so awfully had to be a dark and controlling magic indeed.

As he took a sip of his water, Regulus stared out of the restaurant window and onto the streets of London, wondering what the purpose of giving Regulus the locket was. Did the Dark Lord wish for Regulus to become more mean and spiteful? It was a possibility, but it didn't seem as likely. Regulus was positive that Voldemort wouldn't give him as nice an item as the locket. He also wondered if it was just to test his strength. Maybe there was a spell cast upon the object to make Regulus weary, so he'd have to toughen his mind. Regulus just couldn't think of another reason as to why the Dark Lord would give him such an object. And _him_, out of all people. That's what Regulus didn't understand the most.

A waitress walked up to Regulus. She had been watching the man for quite some time now. Although the younger Black was nowhere near as good looking as his brother, he still had good genes, and his rugged, devil-may-care look was attractive to many women. The waitress, a slender, petite woman with caramel hair tied in a bun at the base of her neck.

"Would you like some more water, Sir?" She asked, trying her best to sound pleasant, but blase at the same time. She wanted to take the man's order, but impress him as well. Regulus didn't seem to get any of this. He placed his drink in front of the waitress and remained silent, staring out the window. He had a lot of thinking to do and didn't need some silly girl in his way. The waitress looked a bit put-out, and after refilling Regulus' water, she cleared her throat, hoping to catch his attention. Her eyes lit up and a bright smile grew as she saw Regulus turn, but he only spun around halfway. It wasn't enough to look at her, and so he just grabbed his water and went back to his thinking. Now the waitress was annoyed.

"Excuse me Sir," She began, "Would you like anything to eat?" Regulus turned around fully, looking up at the waitress. He saw how obviously pleased she was to see him, even though she was trying to hide it.

"I'm fine, thank you," He replied, but then Regulus saw that the waitress was looking at him rather forcefully. "Well..." He looked down at his menu. "Maybe a sandwich. The ham and cheese, if you will," Regulus responded, giving the waitress a menu. He noted how happy she looked, but that train of thought soon crashed. The wizard wanted to get to the bottom of the locket ordeal. Finding out the Dark Lord's motives was a nearly impossible task. Regulus could barely even hope to succeed in finding out why the locket was given to him. Maybe it would be best if he could relax for a moment, and not worry. It then occurred to Regulu that he had nothing else to think about. He didn't have friends to laugh with or to hang out with. he had Death Eaters, and they weren't friends. They were co workers. They were people you had to be civil to, or you'd get fired. In Regulus' case, you wouldn't get fired, you'd die. His family only thought well of him because he was a Death Eater. In reality, he had lost the people who meant the most to him. Andromeda was his favorite cousin. Sirius, his brother who used to care for him now hated him with a passion. Regulus felt like he had wasted his life. He wasn't on the right side, that he knew. But it was too late for him.

"Your sandwich."

Regulus broke from his reverie as his waitress handed him his sandwich. He hadn't realized how dazed and tired he was, it looked like the waitress had been standing there for some time.

"I'm sorry. I'm just feeling completely wasted," Regulus explained to his waitress. he really hadn't been fair to her earlier. She just wanted some attention, and Regulus had been too busy worrying about something he might never find out. The waitress seemed to understand. Since there was no one else in the restaurant, she sat down across from Regulus. He didn't object. The wizard knew that he needed the distraction of company.

"I understand," The waitress replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I've been working for seven hours so far. You're only the second customer we've had today, and I'm afraid this place will go out of business." Regulus nodded, but before he could say anything, his waitress continued to speak. "I shouldn't have told you that," she added, sounding a little embarrassed. "It's not your problem."

"Well," Regulus chimed in, "I understand. Things are tough for me at work too." The waitress looked relieved.

"I personally think times have been hard for everyone recently." Regulus couldn't agree with this more. "There's been more and more unsolved murders and..." The waitress sighed and Regulus felt his gut drop. Unsolved murders. The crimes of the people he called his friends. His crimes. "Well," She continued, looking uneasy, "Between you and me, I think something is happening. Starting. The crime rate has risen and I'm worried." Regulus didn't know how to respond to this. Of course he knew something was going to happen, and that the muggles would notice. But he didn't want to say anything. How could he?

"I...Know what you mean," Regulus pointed out. He was a little shaken. After all, it was his guilty conscience. He only hoped that it wouldn't be someone in this waitress' family that was killed next, or worse, her. Regulus knew that he was hurting innocent people, and he wanted to stop but there was no way out. And if he did stop...He'd be killed. He knew that. But Regulus wanted not just him to stop, but everyone. And he wasn't quite sure how to do that.

"I don't understand murder," The waitress said suddenly. "I know the newspaper says some people just vanished, or looked like they died while asleep, but I know it's murder. I know the crime rate is rising, all these murders are part of it." Regulus remained frozen. He didn't know how to respond. "What I don't understand is how you could have so much hate that you have to kill someone. I don't know how that's possible."

Regulus nodded. "I understand what you're saying. It does seem hard that so much hate builds up…But most of the time—At least, I think," Regulus caught himself, "It's not just hate." The waitress furrowed her brows, confused.

"What do you mean? How could it not be hate? Do people just kill…For fun?" She asked, disgusted by the thought. Regulus grimaced.

"Sometimes, I think that's the case. These people might've been raised that killing wasn't bad as long as…" He gulped, "As long as they were taught that not everyone is equal." The waitress still didn't get it. Regulus continued. "Well…You were taught that killing a butterfly is not as bad as killing a human, right?" The waitress looked at Regulus as if he had just said the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well, of course. Killing a butterfly isn't a big deal at all, but killing a human is awful!"

"Well," Regulus began, "What if you family had taught you that there were some humans just as unimportant as humans, and that it was okay to kill them?"

The waitress eyed Regulus suspiciously. "Are you actually defending these murderers?" Regulus' eyed widened as the waitress said this.

"No! No not at all," He said, then regained composure. "I just mean that these people were raised not to know differently…Sometimes people were born into these families that maybe do these awful things, and they were expected to kill these people. Maybe they had no choice, or somehow the responsibility fell upon them. I know it's not right, but…Maybe these people would die themselves if they didn't kill others." Regulus was trying now to justify his life choices. He hadn't a choice, right? He had to continue his family legacy.

"So you're saying that these murders kill people because they value their own single life over the lives of twenty, maybe?" The waitress asked, sneering a little.

"No! Well, maybe, but would you voluntarily choose death if you could live?" Regulus asked.

"Yes!" The waitress replied, raising her voice. "If it meant saving a family of innocent people, I would give up my life in an instant!" At this point it was a yell. Regulus grew silent. The waitress must've been brave to do that. Regulus knew that he couldn't do that. He couldn't let himself die to save people he didn't even know. He just couldn't.

"Dying won't change that family's fate. Someone else will just kill them," Regulus replied softly. There was still annoyance in the waitresses' eyes.

"Maybe that's true. Maybe someone else would kill them, and maybe your dying was in vain." The waitress paused. "Or maybe you could set an example. Maybe more bad people would follow your lead. Or maybe you could go down with something. Whatever forces these people to kill, maybe you could take a piece of them down with you, you know? And bit by bit the heart and soul of evil will be gone, just by people taking away little bits at a time. Because that's what makes people strong. Their souls."

Regulus stopped for a moment. All his former thoughts vanished. He bit his lip, and furrowed his brows in deep thought. Something had lit up in the back of his mind, something about evil, and souls, and bits and pieces. The waitresses words echoe din his mind.

_And bit by bit the heart and soul of evil will be gone, just by people taking away little bits at a time._

_The soul of evil will be gone, just by people taking away little bits at a time._

_Soul. Evil. Bits._

_Because that's what makes people strong. Their souls. _

_Souls make people stronger. Evil souls, broken down into bits._

Regulus grasped at his neck, grabbing nothing but remembering. He remembered the locket around his neck, how he felt different with it on. Hadn't he heard something? Hadn't he felt a presence, some sort of magic? And of course the Dark Lord would know all sorts of evil magic. Evil, dark magic just like the type Regulus was thinking of.

"Sir?" The waitress asked, noticing that Regulus was lost.

"Pieces of souls. Pieces of…." Regulus stopped, turning to look at the waitress, wide-eyed and frantic. "What if this evil person…Who was forcing someone to do something, what if he had lots of pieces of his evil soul, scattered in multiple places? And what if because no one could destroy his whole soul…What if that mad ehim powerful because he couldn't be destroyed?"

The waitress looked at Regulus, very much confused. All annoyance had vanished. "This is all hypothetical, right? Hypothetical and…An analogy, correct?"

"Yes yes," Regulus lied easily, wanting the waitress to hurry up. "But what would you do?"

The waitress thought for a moment. She pursed her lips, then stared straight at Regulus. "I'd take a bit of that soul with me, even if it meant my death. I'd take it with me in my death, and know that even though I went down, so did that evil force, the one who made me so such awful things. And I'd hope to lead the way for others as well." Before the waitress even finished, Regulus had pulled out a wad of muggle money, and not knowing its worth, handed it to the waitress.

"Here is your tip, I hope you have a very lovely evening but I really must be going now." The waitress took the money, and looking through it realized she was given a wad of different 20 pound notes, realizing it added up to way too much.

"Wait, sir!" She called out as Regulus got up and ran out there door. She paused, and as she saw the doors of the small building close, she dashed by the tables and looked outside, but Regulus was gone. The waitress didn't know it, but he was long gone. Apparition was much faster than running. The waitress stood there, dumbfounded, and realized that it had not been a hypothetical question at all.

Regulus slammed the door shut to Grimmauld Place, hung up his coat and ran up the stairs to his bedroom so eagerly that he rushed by Kreacher without the usual hello. He then slammed the door to his own room and looked inside the drawer where he had decided to keep the locket. It was sill there. Relieved, Regulus grabbed parchment and a quill and a bottle of ink, frantically writing is discoveries in another letter that he would never send.

_I am going to die, brother. I know it now, and it is clear what I need to do. It involves a magic so evil; The act of splitting your soul…_

**Author's Note:**

**Finally, another chapter. Hopefully it's alright, I really liked this one. See if you can catch the little inside joke I threw in there-Hint: Slughorn asks Tom Riddle the same think when dealing with horcruxes. Hopefully I'll get another chapter out soon.**

**Until then,**

**-coloronthewalls**


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